A Life Sentence
by Barbie Shoes
Summary: Emma is a convicted felon, Regina is the mayor of Storybook who adopted Emma's son. What might have happened had these two women met in a world without magic? — SQ, no!magic AU (rating will mature)
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: It's been a super long time, but I'm back with a new story! Those of you that know me might note the irony of me writing an AU, as I tend to feel they are not really the same characters anymore. My thought process with this story though was to take the root of Emma and Regina's stories, separately and together, and explore them in a non magical setting. So hopefully you enjoy this new fic, and please let me know what you think (whether complimentary or constructive!)_

 _And of course a big shout out to the best beta in the entire world, michaelawaffles! And not only thanks, but credit to her for coming up with the title! She fuckin rocks :)_

* * *

Knowing this day would come should have made it easier to swallow. Eight years was a long time to prepare oneself, especially for a woman like Regina Mills who was nothing if not a master of compartmentalization. Even still, the automated voice on the other end of the line caused a lump to form in Regina's throat that was downright impossible to choke down..

" _An inmate at the Maine Correctional Center is attempting to contact you,"_ the voice taunted her with forced, unnatural inflections. " _To accept this call from_..." A small pause, just enough to make her hope she wouldn't hear the voice of– "Emma Swan..." –but there it was. Of course it was. " _Press 'one' now_."

She tried to ignore the sensation in her gut, like icicles crystallizing along the edges of her stomach. Regina thought maybe had she known the exact date, if she only knew today would be the day, perhaps this would be easier. It wasn't true, of course. October of 2013. For eight years she anticipated this date with a growing sense of dread. She pointedly ignored the calendar as the autumn air began turning crisp, vainly hoping perhaps through a lack of acknowledgement the month might slip by without event, landing them safely in November's embrace. And yet, on this 22nd day of October, her phone rang with the call Regina hoped might never come.

The thought crossed her mind that she could just hang up the phone. Regina wasn't a woman known for her kindness or warmth, and shutting the girl out would certainly be the easiest solution. Though while perhaps lacking in tenderness, she was a woman of her word. Breaking it wouldn't be fair to Emma, or to Henry. And so it was with a heavy sigh she pressed the button to accept the call and all the repercussions it may bring.

"This is Regina," she curtly stated her usual greeting when the other end of the line came to life.

"Hi, is this Regina? I mean– shit..." a woman's voice babbled into her ear. "I'm sorry, I'm just... I'm really nervous. I've been rehearsing this call in my head for like a month, and then you didn't answer the way I expected you to and... and now I guess I'm making a complete ass of myself, huh?"

"Breathe, Ms. Swan," Regina said, subtly rolling her eyes at the girl's lack of grace under pressure. "I haven't changed my mind about our deal."

"Okay," Emma sighed, at least slightly assuaged, though her voice still trembled. "That's, well, it's really good to hear. I've been thinking about this moment since–"

"When do you get out?" Regina interrupted, not remotely interested in idle chitchat or hearing this woman's hope and dreams. Her own world was about to be upended, shifted off its axis and spun in reverse. She hadn't the mental energy to spare towards the plight of anyone else. Emma was a nice enough girl, from what Regina recalled of her, and not altogether intolerable. That didn't make them friends, or confidants, or even acquaintances really. A singular thread of fate tied them together, and that was all Regina was prepared to deal with right now.

"Three days," Emma replied, and Regina felt her gut roil. She wanted more time; she wanted forever, really. But no amount of waiting or preparing was going to make this easier. "We don't have to do it right away," Emma hurriedly amended in Regina's silence, seemingly eager to please. "I have a little bit of money. Probably enough to find my way to Storybrooke and a place to stay for a day or two if you need time to, you know, explain things."

"No, no," Regina said, suddenly aware of the weight of her own body as it protested against her words. "He already knows everything. Let's just get this over with."

Eight years. In just a few short days, a moment eight years in the making would arrive. Regina never could have anticipated when they first made this deal how utterly hapless she would feel now.

* * *

 **Eight Years Ago**

A correctional facility was certainly a strong contender for the last place Regina Mills ever wished to find herself, and yet here she was. Thankfully as a visitor, but the air still hung heavy with the stale smell of despair. She surveyed the listless faces surrounding her, trying not to fidget in her seat at the small, unsteady table she occupied. Regina was hardly unused to being alone, but this meeting in particular put her on edge and the lack of distraction only served to fuel her anxiety.

A door opening on the far side of the room caught Regina's attention. A young woman slowly emerged through the threshold like a skittish doe and, although she never met the girl once in her life, Regina knew immediately that this was Emma Swan.

She was pretty, Regina had to admit, in an intriguing sort of way. Her eyes were almost too big for her face, high cheekbones made her chubby cheeks that much more pronounced, and the corners of her lips tipped downward in a perpetual pout. Yet somehow, it all came together just right, giving an almost ethereal impression that was only magnified by the fluorescent lighting bouncing off her pale hair and skin. How preposterous, Regina thought, that anyone should actually look anything short of hideous in fluorescent lighting.

The most notable thing about her, however, the thing that made Regina's heart worm itself uncomfortably high in her throat, was her heavily protruding stomach, visible even through the baggy prison garb.

"Regina Mills?" the girl inquired with her shoulders drawn up defensively and a protective hand placed over her rounded belly.

"Indeed," Regina replied, smoothing the wrinkles of her skirt as she stood to formally greet her companion. "And you must be Ms. Swan," she cordially extended her hand, hoping her clammy palm would go unnoticed as Emma dutifully grasped it with her own. The exchange was abrupt, both women recoiling quickly and retreating to their seats.

"I, um, I know we talked briefly on the phone, but I just needed to meet you at least once before deciding to, you know," Emma halted, choking on the words and swallowing hard, "giving you my baby."

It felt like a balloon might burst in Regina's chest upon hearing those words said aloud. Over a year on the waiting list without any interested parties had seen her hope dwindle at ever being chosen. Sure, she was still young. At twenty seven years old there would be plenty of opportunities for motherhood. But Regina was a woman accustomed to getting what she wanted when she wanted it, and the crash of reality was more than a little disappointing.

She had hesitated when the call finally came, only to discover the birth mother was a convicted felon serving time. Regina couldn't very well hope for a thriving political career if she were to have a child genetically predisposed to criminal tendencies. Then again, DNA certainly wasn't everything, as she knew all too well. Perhaps fate had deemed her worthy of giving this child the life its biological mother couldn't, the one her own mother failed to provide. This was her baby, she determined. Regina felt it somewhere deep inside, and so she quieted her hesitations and took the call.

"Indeed, it's a perfectly reasonable request," she replied, hoping her smile reached her eyes as she tried so hard to show some semblance of warmth. No one wanted to give their child away to some cold-hearted politician, and she was struggling to keep the formal mask at bay.

"So, usually I really hate to pry but... I just have a few questions, if that's alright?" Emma asked nervously.

"Of course, dear," Regina nodded assuredly, deciding one of them had to uphold some pretense of confidence. "Anything you'd like to know."

"Your profile says you're unmarried," Emma continued upon Regina's blessing. "Which, don't get me wrong, that's totally cool. I'm just wondering if there's going to be a boyfriend or something in the picture?"

"No," Regina snorted with contempt, quickly realizing she might have been a bit too assertive with her answer. "No, it's just me," she tried again, more calmly this time. "I was married once, but it ended badly. To be quite honest, all of it was bad..." she stopped herself then, hoping the girl wouldn't pry for details. She decided to try a different route. "I don't have much interest in relationships at the moment. And I don't have much in the way of family, either. What I do have is love. I have so much love to give. And I feel that love would be much better spent on a child than anyone else right now. Your baby... It would be my entire world. First steps and science fairs and bake sales – I want to be a part of all of that. Even the diapers, the tantrums, and fevers. It would all be done with love."

Emma looked like she was going to cry now, and Regina wanted to kick herself. She wasn't sure what she said wrong.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"No," Emma cut her off. "Don't apologize. What you said... it's perfect. It's everything I want for him."

"Him?" Regina asked, surprised to hear the girl specify a gender.

"Shit," Emma shook her head self-deprecatingly. "I should have asked if you wanted to be surprised. I just found out the other day."

"No, it's quite alright," Regina replied with a soft, encouraging smile. "A little boy sounds absolutely wonderful."

"It does, doesn't it?" Emma nodded, and suddenly tears were streaming freely down her face. Regina wasn't entirely sure how to deal with such outbursts of emotion, least of all from a complete stranger, and so she sat silently and waited.

"I just want you to understand..." Emma whimpered, "I'm not a bad person. I don't want to give him away. I know I could send him into foster care and take him back when I get out, but eight years is a long time. I won't let him grow up the way I did. He deserves a home, one he knows is forever, and someone to love him."

An unfamiliar feeling took hold in Regina's gut. Rarely did she feel empathy towards another's sob story. She feared at times that she had become heartless, but hardening herself was how she survived all these years. Listening to anyone talk about how tragic their life was left her feeling empty, evermore more alone as old wounds opened with not a bandage in sight.

Emma wasn't looking for sympathy. She wasn't trying to compare the cards she'd been dealt with the ones in Regina's hand. This girl had survived, was still fighting to survive, and only wished her child would never experience that feeling. That much Regina most certainly understood.

"I will," Regina said, hoping she wasn't being too presumptuous in her assertion. "I can promise you he will always have a place to belong with me."

Emma smiled ruefully, pain in her eyes, yet there was a glimmer of relief. That even though it hurt, maybe everything would be okay somehow. Until her smile faded into nervousness again.

"There's just one more thing," Emma said, eyes cast downwards to fidgeting fingers picking at jaggedly bitten nails. "Well, two, I guess. I'd like to know how he's doing... Nothing major, I'm not trying to impose. Just, like, a picture on his birthday. Maybe a quick note, whatever's doable."

"That sounds perfectly reasonable," Regina easily agreed, her body strung tight with anticipation at the realization Emma might actually be about to choose her. "And your other request?"

Now Emma's fingers found her mouth, gnawing her stubbed nails viciously for several unnerving moments. The girl caught herself, watching her hands as she folded them on the table, likely hoping her white-knuckled grip went unnoticed. Her hesitation was starting to spark a note of anxiety in Regina as well, until at last those wide, green eyes rose to meet her own with an earnest, heartbreaking plea.

"I'd like to meet him someday."

* * *

It seemed a simple enough stipulation back then, when Regina was desperate for a child and willing to agree to almost any terms the young woman proposed. But on that day, so many years ago, she had not yet experienced what it would mean to be a mother.

She had yet to experience bringing her son home, that first sleepless night and the countless ones that followed. First smiles, first steps, first days of school. The worry through his fevers, the exhaustion through tantrums. Birthdays and holidays and Saturday afternoons at the park. A billion tiny fragments of time pieced together to create Regina's entire world.

For Henry's entire life, it was just the two of them. Regina remained uninterested in dating, and though she once attempted a 'no strings attached' relationship early on, it proved unfulfilling. She concluded being a good mother was all the fulfillment she really needed – right now, anyway.

When Henry was old enough to start asking questions about where he came from, Regina was always honest with him. He always knew about Emma, was always intrigued by her, always asking questions about his birth mother that Regina couldn't begin to answer. She hardly knew the woman, after all.

"Do I look like her?" he would ask. "Do you think she likes dragons? Where is she from? When do I get to meet her? What kind of ice cream do you think she likes?"

His questions were endless, but the curiosity was to be expected and didn't weigh too heavily on her mind. She didn't even mind when he requested to include a card of his own in the yearly package Regina sent to Emma. It depicted a dragon – which Henry was exceptionally adept at drawing for his young age – being fought off by two sword wielding stick figures. Her heart admittedly sank just a little when he requested her help writing 'Henry' over the smaller figure, and 'Emma' over the larger.

The truth was that Emma's release couldn't have come at a worse time – if there even was a best time. Just shy of his eighth birthday, Henry was already beginning to rebel against his mother. She didn't exactly regret being honest with him about where he came from, but her openness was coming back to haunt her now.

The fact that his birth mother was in prison did nothing to dissuade Henry from placing Emma high on a pedestal, romanticizing the woman into his personal white knight who would one day save him from the cruel mother who refused him such luxuries as cookies before dinner or sleepovers on school nights.

" _No, my dear,"_ she would tell him with gentle firmness. _"I'm afraid I simply can't allow that."_

" _I bet Emma would let me!"_ Henry would shriek back in indignation. And then would come the serrated stab as he sharply proclaimed, _"You're not even my_ real _mom!"_

And the words cut deep.

She would hold a stoic face, reminding herself this was simply a phase and one day he would understand, as she carefully explained once again why saying such things was uncalled for. But the pain in her chest pulled deep into her gut all the same, and because of that she supposed part of her had come to resent Emma some time ago.

Which made it all the harder to sit here now, fidgeting in in her seat and waiting for Emma to emerge through yet another doorway, just like the first and last day they met. Only this time Regina wouldn't get to walk away from the table alone, filled with excitement and hope for what was to come. Because now the seat she waited in was that of her car, and the door she watched with nervous anticipation belonged to the bus station outside of town.

Regret for offering the girl a ride festered in her chest the longer Regina sat idly with her thoughts. The words had come tumbling out of their own accord in her anxious attempt to fill the silence and end the phone call with Emma. The woman needed a ride to some car she apparently had waiting for her upon release. Regina damned her rigid upbringing for drilling habitual courteousness into her head, dooming her to the half hour she must now spend confined in the vehicle with her child's birth mother on their way to find it.

A bright flash reflected off an opening door, momentarily blinding Regina. Her vision cleared, and there stood Emma as if materializing from sunlight. Her shoulders were squared, apprehensive but no longer skittish. She was thinner, of course – muscular, even – the chubby face Regina recalled now boasting high cheekbones and a strong jawline. Hardly the soft little girl she once was. Eight years may have changed Emma Swan, but her's was a face Regina could never forget.

She glanced in the mirror to ensure her meticulously feathered dark locks still held their place, pleased to note her even darker eyes maintained a well-practiced air of authority. Regina took a deep breath, tipped her chin high and got out of the car.

She leaned against the open door with careful disinterest, not even bothering to wave or call out as she waited for Emma's roaming eyes to find her. Regina gestured curtly for the girl to get a move on, then returned to her vehicle to soak up the last few seconds of seclusion it would provide her.

That bubble burst as the passenger side door opened and Emma unceremoniously collapsed into the seat.

Both women simply stared at one another for a long moment, unsure what to say or what to expect. Regina was certain if she released her grip on the steering wheel, her hands would be visibly trembling.

"Hi," Emma finally broke the silence with her stilted greeting and a clumsy half-smile.

"Hello, Ms. Swan," Regina replied, slipping into the dignified character she was accustomed to playing, thanks to her years in politics. "You're looking well."

Emma surveyed her own attire with a scrunch of her brow. "Thanks," she smirked a little, gesturing grandly over her tattered maroon sweatshirt and sagging jeans. "I call it 'Post-Prison Chic.'"

Sarcasm in its elitist form of scoffing and mockery was not unfamiliar among Regina's circle of peers and colleagues. Quite the opposite, in fact – both politicians and PTA mothers alike loved a good biting remark at just about anyone else's expense. Emma's self-deprecating nature, however, was something quite foreign, and Regina mustered little more than a terse nod in reply.

"You, though," Emma began again, "you look incredible. I mean, you know–" she wrung her fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck in an apparent nervous habit, "–like you've done really well for yourself."

If her designer pantsuit didn't give that bit of information away, the classic Mercedes Benz she arrived in most certainly did.

"Yes, well," Regina replied smugly, "being Mayor does have its perks."

She knew there was no need to flaunt her superiority. Afterall, Emma had just finished a stint in prison and probably couldn't feel more inferior if she were an old wad of gum scraped off the bottom of Regina's Louis Vuitton.

Still, in Henry's eyes, she was all too aware that this distinction meant nothing. In fact, Emma's anomalous nature compared to the rest of their world could very well give the girl the advantage here.

"Mayor, huh?" Emma gasped. At least someone was impressed. "That's... wow. I never thought my kid would be the son of a Mayor."

" _My child,"_ Regina snapped defensively at the unfortunate comment. "He is _my_ son."

"Oh! I... I just..." Emma sputtered, "I didn't mean–"

"I know precisely what you meant," Regina cut in. "Just make no mistake that _I_ am his mother. I have been his mother for the past eight _years_ you were absent. You may have given birth to him, but he is _my_ son."

"Jesus, lady," Emma huffed, shaking her head. "It was a poor choice of words, okay? I'm not here to take him away from you."

"So long as we're clear," Regina replied, feeling a little embarrassed by her outburst, though justified all the same. Emma had no right to her child, not legally, not emotionally. That she was even allowing this at all was a privilege to Emma, and for her son's sake alone.

Emma didn't speak after that. She didn't even chance a glance in Regina's direction, far as the woman could tell. An unwelcome sense of guilt got the better of her, and it was Regina who broke the silence.

"So is _that_ really what you're wearing?" she inquired with all the incredulity she could muster.

"I... don't have anything else," Emma confessed sheepishly. "These are donations to the prison. They're the only things that fit me for walking clothes."

A part of Regina so wished to let Emma come as she was. To show Henery just how very downtrodden and disheveled his birth mother really was. But she could just imagine the look of disappointment on her son's face, seeing Emma in her current state.

And Emma... well, maybe Regina felt like she owed her something, much as tried to repel the sensation. The woman made Regina a mother, after all, and Emma _was_ rather down on her luck. Regina didn't want to feel for her – and oh, her resentment still burned like the sun. But Emma had nothing and no one, and it was the latter Regina could empathize with all too well. A few items, she decided, to get the girl on her feet couldn't hurt.

"We'll stop at the store on our way," Regina said, with no room for question.

"Reg- Ms... Mayor, you really don't have to–"

"It is already decided. And don't tell me you couldn't do with some help. I won't suffer foolish pride."

She could tell Emma wanted to protest. Regina may not have known her long but it was easy enough to assess the woman not accustomed or inclined to taking handouts. She cursed the part of her that felt the urge to care for this girl. _Henry_ was her charge. Not Emma. Despite the vexation she felt, she couldn't leave Emma with nothing.

Emma didn't protest, but her jaw clenched tightly in the silence. Her demeanor turned tense and reserved as they pulled into the Walmart parking lot. Yes, the store wasn't exactly high end, but Regina's charity only extended so far. Even entering the grungy establishment was a charitable act as far as she was concerned. She couldn't imagine Emma would accept more anyway.

They walked into the store together in quiet discomfort, neither entirely sure how to act around the other and therefore not acting at all.

"I really don't need much," Emma insisted when they made their way to the clothing section. "A few shirts and a pair of pants will be more than enough."

"It's cold," Regina replied. "You'll need a jacket as well."

"Regina–"

"Please, stop arguing with me, Ms Swan," Regina sighed exasperatedly. "Here," she offered, holding up a faux leather jacket in red. "This should suit you."

Emma eyed it suspiciously. Or maybe it was Regina the eye was directed at. Either way, she accepted the jacket Regina proffered.

"Yeah," Emma said with an unease Regina was not accustomed to. It was almost... affectionate. "This is really great. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Regina said, bewildered by the sentimental sensation she felt. Emma Swan was no one to her. Nothing more than the woman who bore her son, and now deemed to inconvenience her life by virtue of existing.

"You..." Emma began, with so much uncertainty. "You know you don't owe me anything. I chose to give him to you."

Oh, she hated Emma Swan. She hated her with every fiber of her being. In her son's mind, Emma was the perfect mother. She was everything he ever wished Regina would be, no matter how much she loved him or how hard she tried. Because Emma was his fantasy, and Regina's hell. But this living, breathing woman before her, with her humility and doe eyes made her all too real, and far too hard to abhor.

Not that she would let Emma know that.

"Yes, Ms. Swan," she hissed, feeling far more comfortable with the distance the formal title provided. "I am well aware that I did not purchase my child. Please don't make me regret my generosity."

"Regret?" Emma spat. "I didn't _ask_ you for any of this. If it's such a burden to you, fucking keep it."

Normally, Regina hated being challenged. People bending to her will was the norm. Emma, it seemed, was something else entirely. And she wasn't quite sure how to handle that.

But they were already here, and they already selected the items for Emma. So Regina chucked the jacket into the cart with rabid disdain, ordering Emma to "proceed to the checkout," as they walked in awkward silence once again.

"You don't like me," Emma stated flatly after long minutes of silence back in the car.

"I hardly know you Ms–"

"It's Emma _,_ " the girl interrupted tersely.

" _Ms. Swan_ ," Regina intoned with harsh insistence. "Whether I like you or not is irrelevant. We made an arrangement, and I am upholding my end. There is no reason to pretend that our relationship extends to anything more than that."

"Fine," Emma huffed. "Whatever."

Silence returned, and this time Regina welcomed it. Talking to Emma was proving itself quite aggravating, and not only because she was insufferable. She was also so human, so flawed, so strangely relatable and yet unlike anyone Regina ever met. Compartmentalizing was pertinent to maintaining control over her life, and no matter how Regina might empathize with Emma in certain areas, she couldn't allow it to muddy the fact that this woman was easily the downfall of her relationship with her son. Sure, this meeting wasn't set in paperwork, and the plug could be most easily pulled. But she wouldn't do that to Henry, not to mention such a move would ensure her losing him to his resentment indefinitely.

She was going to have to trust Emma to hold up her end of the deal. No, not trust. Regina didn't trust anyone, let alone a perfect stranger with the power to destroy her. She would have to trust herself, to trust her instincts and her eyes to stay sharp. After all, she was Regina Mills, and she could ruin Emma with a flick of her wrist. If there was one thing she learned from her mother, it was how to utterly, viciously tear another human being apart, and she destroyed plenty of happiness in her lifetime. Not that she was necessarily proud of it, but she was capable of doing what needed to be done. And of that, she was indeed proud.

Love was weakness, after all, and what was empathy but the first plucked strings of affection? She would not empathize with Emma, she decided quite firmly. This was business, just like any other poor fool who came through her office. She would deal with the matter at hand, then file it away and move on to the next.

Regina's resolve was challenged almost immediately when they arrived to pick up Emma's car – a hideously old fashioned Bug in the most obnoxious shade of yellow imaginable – only to discover a dead battery and nearly empty tank of gas that would never take her anywhere near as far as Storybrooke.

"I, uh..." Emma stuttered, anxiously combing hair back from her face with one hand, the other determinedly stationed on her hip. "It's fine. I'll figure it out. And just... catch up with you later."

She spoke eyeing the vehicle as though it had betrayed her, with anger and a hint of sadness that Regina was loathe to realize was actually desperation. Emma had no idea how she was going to fix the car or make it to town. She had no money and no support. Just a friend of a friend who held onto a car while she was away and didn't even bother to make sure it worked.

Regina pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, exhaling hard as she did so. She did not feel bad for Emma. She didn't. Regina simply needed to get this meeting over and done with, and didn't have the time to waste waiting or wondering when this tumbleweed of a girl might blow into town.

"Get in," Regina said sharply, yanking open the passenger side door of the Mercedes and storming around to the driver's side to insert herself.

"I said I got it," Emma replied, indignantly leaning into the car without actually entering. "You don't want anything to do with me, and I sure as hell don't want anymore help from you. I'm not your charity case, lady."

"While that may be true," Regina hissed, "what you are most certainly becoming is a major inconvenience. My son is expecting you this evening, and God knows when you'll show up if left to your own devices. So _get in the goddamn car,_ Ms. Swan."

She snarled the name through clenched teeth, making her displeasure quite transparent. It was a tactic that had proven quite effective with her son, and whether because of biology or the girl's childish nature, it was hardly a surprise when it turned out to be equally effective on Emma.

She plopped her defiant ass down in the seat, seething and full of rage, but begrudgingly compliant. Regina smirked a haughtily victorious sneer, smoothly guiding the Mercedes out of the dusty dirt lot with a sideways glance at her pouting companion.

"Get off your high horse," Emma huffed. "I'm doing it for the kid."

"Whatever you say, Ms. Swan," Regina chortled with a condescending lilt. She peripherally noticed Emma roll her eyes and dramatically fold her arms across her chest, but the girl said nothing in her defense, and Regina mentally marked a check in the 'win' column for herself.

She fought the urge to break the silence all the way back to Storybrooke. Regina found something of a rush in antagonizing Emma – a completely unfounded pleasure in eliciting a reaction from the girl, a sense of challenge in the stubborn fearlessness so rarely found these days. Most people cowered to Regina. Emma didn't. And while she didn't have to like her, Regina at least had to respect that.

A petulant, unspoken competition of silence carried on until the 'Welcome to Storybrooke' sign came into view. Had Regina spoke before now, it would have been a win for Emma. However, as they crossed the town line, Regina determined a mature conversation was a necessity and not a surrender, and thus deemed this particular challenge a draw - which still placed her one point ahead of Emma.

"Henry will be waiting for us with his babysitter at Granny's Diner," she explained curtly. "I will pay Ashley and dismiss her, and you will not greet or approach my son until I have finished and make the proper introductions. Are we clear?"

"Yes," Emma replied, disappointingly differential as she wrung her hands together anxiously. They were equally apprehensive about this, Regina realized, even if for entirely different reasons. Still, she warned herself, no empathy. Emma could not have that power.

By the time they pulled up in front of the diner, Emma was visibly trembling. Regina considered telling Emma she had nothing to worry about, that Henry adored her on principle alone. But she couldn't bring herself to make it any easier on the girl. It's not like anyone was going to do the same for Regina.

That is, until they were on their way to the door, Regina reaching for the handle when Emma's fingers softly wrapped around her outstretched arm and beckoned her to halt. Regina didn't have much fight left in her, and merely turned to look at Emma inquisitively.

"Do you think he'll like me?" the girl asked, in the smallest, most uncertain voice Regina ever heard from Emma.

Without a chance to quiet them, the strings of empathy strummed deep inside, just for a moment, and Regina sighed resolutely as she replied.

"I have absolutely no doubt."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I've been hanging onto this chapter way too long thinking it wasn't good enough. But if I keep doing that I'll never finish the story! Gonna work on being less picky and hopefully be better about updates. If you don't trust me to be prompt, please give a follow so I know there's interest! Hope you enjoy the update, I've been brainstorming and getting really excited about the future of this story so I hope you will too! Let me know what you think! (Unbetaed, except by me a million times... let me know if you find major errors!) I live for reviews. My actual life blood... so, please? lol_

 _I nearly forgot: I would like to dedicate this new chapter to the creepy anonymous person who is obsessed with reading swan queen stories and then leaving reviews about how much they hate Regina. Your reviews never cease to entertain! And confuse, because like... you really need a better hobby None the less, this chapter goes out to YOU! Thanks for the laughs!_

* * *

Emma hung back near the door, shifting from foot to foot as her fingers wove themselves in and out of knots and loops. Even with her lips drawn and chin tipped high, she failed miserably to feign indifference to the hushed whispers and suspicious glances cast her way. Storybrooke was a small town – and Emma stood out like a stain of spilt merlot on pristine white carpeting.

It was the middle of the dinner rush, so it took Regina a moment to spot her son. He sat in a booth across from his babysitter, Ashley, with his back to the door. Neither reacted to jingling of the little bell above the door, its chime swallowed up by the din of the crowd.

"Wait here," Regina instructed, pointing sharply towards the ground where Emma's clunky brown boots already took root.

Emma nodded tersely, arms wrapped protectively around her middle and eyes dancing wildly as she scanned the room for the boy she'd given up all those years ago. Regina sighed to herself again, damming Emma and her stupid doe eyes for tempting her sympathies.

"Madam Mayor," Ashley grinned too widely, a slight crack in her voice unwittingly revealing the intimidation most everyone in Storybrooke displayed in Regina's presence. "He's been great," the girl rushed to continue, overcompensating now with far too much cheer. "A little antsy, but I figured that was to be expected given the excitement."

"Yes," Regina snarled at the omnipresent reminders. Ashley's eyes shot down to the tabletop and her smile vanished instantly. She opened and closed her mouth wordlessly several times before Regina finally took pity, clearing her throat as she tried to smile. "Yes," Regina said again, much more gently this time. "I suppose it is."

With a subdued nod Ashley slid out of the booth. Regina caught a glimpse of Emma from the corner of her eye, face contorted as though trying to pretend she wasn't being ripped apart from the inside. Instantly Regina cringed, bemoaning her own thoughtlessness. Ashley was twenty-two years old – the same age as Emma when Regina first met her – and almost just as pregnant. Much as she wanted the upper hand over the woman who bore her son, Emma had done nothing to incurre that level of Regina's malice. Tempting as it may be, rubbing salt in old wounds would benefit no one right now. She paid the young girl and quickly sent her on her way.

Emma rocked on her heels, hands shoved tightly into the tiny pockets of her skin tight jeans, arms stiff and shoulders drawn beneath red leather. Regina briefly thought she ought to remind the girl to breathe, but in the end turned her gaze away. Henry was her only concern.

"Sweetheart," she addressed him softly, crouching down by the booth until they were eye level. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Of course, Regina knew the answer. Henry talked about this moment nearly every day since he was first able to string more than three words together. Back then it was easier, simply entertaining his whimsical curiosity, compared to the angst ridden tantrums she endured in the months since her son deemed her the villain in his story. Regina would have been ashamed to admit she wasn't sure if she was asking purely for her son's sake or in the vain hope that perhaps he'd changed his mind.

"Yes, _Mom,"_ he replied, rolling his eyes in typical fashion. Then, excitedly, "Is she here? Can I see her now?"

And though it stung hearing the way his tone turned from exasperation addressing her to pure glee at the thought of Emma, she turned to the woman across the room and beckoned her over with a sharp nod of her head.

Emma approached the table as though her boots were filled with sand, threading her way through tables and chairs as Regina's stomach knotted ever tighter with each heavy footfall. Henry turned to follow his mother's gaze across the room, eyes lighting up like stars in the night sky as they fell on Emma for the first time.

What Regina wouldn't have given to cut and run right then, seeing the hopeful smile slowly spreading across Emma's mouth as Henry's excitement practically bubbled over the brim. She never imagined she would feel like such an outsider in this moment. Like a voyeur intruding upon their private bubble. Her heart sank like an anchor into the pit of her stomach, noticed by no one as Henry danced buoyantly in his seat and Emma's clumsy footsteps fell just a bit lighter.

"Henry," Regina began stoically, "this is–"

"You're my _real_ mom!" he squealed before his mother could finish, catapulting himself straight into the arms of a perfect stranger.

"Your _birth_ mother," Regina finished feebly.

Emma stared at her, brow creased and eyes wide, her mouth open as if to apologize but no words came. She looked away, lips falling together as a nervous tongue slipped out to wet them.

"How about," Emma began on shaking breath, shifting her awkward embrace of the child to gently grip his shoulders and peel his body back enough for him to look into her eyes, "we just stick with 'Emma' for now."

"Okay, Emma," Henry replied jubilantly, the deeper meaning of the title completely lost on him.

Once again, Regina found herself facing conflicting emotions around Emma. She hated this meeting, hated the way her son looked at this woman with so much adoration, hated the unbridled affection she received without having done anything at all to deserve it. At the same time, Emma did seem to know her place. She wasn't pretending to be his parent, and she wasn't allowing Henry to do so either. Regina did appreciate that.

Emma took the seat Ashley previously occupied and Regina the one opposite. Henry's malt remained stationed next to Regina, all but forgotten as he slid into the seat next to Emma.

The way he grinned up at her, Emma might as well have flown into the diner wearing a cape and spandex. Regina supposed that wasn't far from how her son viewed the woman beside him. After all, in his young mind, his birth mother was to be the remedy for every perceived slight Regina ever committed against him. She tried not to think about the turmoil that was sure to ensue when that particular fantasy came crashing down.

Emma, too, looked at Henry as if he were something otherworldly, like she wanted so badly to reach out and touch him yet feared he might disappear if she dared. Every so often she would catch herself, glance shifting awkwardly across the table as she attempted to neutralize her expression. Regina offered no solace. Watching Emma squirm was her only satisfaction right now.

"Do I look like her, Mom?" Henry asked, breaking the silent tension he remained completely oblivious to. It was a small flicker of relief that he still acknowledged her in Emma's presence. At the same time, Regina couldn't help but quietly bemoan the fact that the resemblance was indeed quite striking.

"Yes," Regina replied, grinning at her son as though she shared in his joy and didn't wish she could just go home and quietly fall apart. "You have her smile."

Henry turned that smile back to Emma again, eyes traveling her face in search of other traces of himself.

"Do you like dragons?" he asked with a sudden shift of attention, too wound up to stay focused on any one thing for too long.

Emma took her chances directing an amused smirk at Regina, and this once she indulged with a similar expression in reply. Of course the first thing he'd ask about would be dragons. A lifetime of waiting meant nothing to an eight year old, at least not the way it did to an adult. His years had yet to breed such existential questions as to who he was or why is birth mother made the choices she did. Henry liked dragons, and for him it really was that simple right now. It served to remind Regina that he really was still so young. Emma turned her attention back to Henry, the silent moment between them broken yet still somehow clouding the air around Regina's head. She resolved to put her grievances aside, at least for the duration of this meeting.

"Yeah!" Emma replied with the sort of enthusiasm reserved for children, the kind that told Regina the woman would have said the same to just about anything Henry inquired. "Dragons are awesome. I loved the one you drew for me last year. You're really talented."

Henry beamed at the praise and Regina couldn't help but to revel in his happiness, smiling genuinely for the first time all day. Regardless of whatever personal strife she faced, seeing that kind of pride and glee on her child's face would always thaw the ice around her heart.

"You got my card!" he exclaimed, quite literally bouncing in his seat. "Mom! She got my card!"

"Of course, dear," Regina replied with a small chuckle, "I promised I'd send it, didn't I?"

A glimmer of affection shone in his eyes and, even if it was only directed at her because of Emma, Regina would take it.

His attention turned back to Emma, and though it plucked the strings of disappointment Regina refused to let the notes reverberate in her mind for too long. Things were going much better than expected after all, and she really did want to be happy for Henry right now.

Silence befell the trio, feeling immeasurably longer than it likely lasted. Unfortunately for the two women, they had little in common aside from the little boy who now sat staring star struck at his birth mother, both reluctant to fill the space with idle musings.

"So, uh," Emma caved, propping her elbow up casually on the table. The hand at the back of her neck twirling locks of hair around her fingers did not go unnoticed by Regina, belying the cool facade. "What else are you into, kid?"

Henry looked at his mother with a scrunched face, the way he did at doctor's appointments when the nurse asked the reason for his visit that day.

"He's a very skilled reader," Regina supplied with a nod of encouragement for Henry to take over.

"Ms Blanchard says I can join the advanced reading group," he added proudly. "She even gave me a book of old fairytales! Me and mom read it together before bed. The real stories are super creepy, but I don't get scared."

Regina bit her tongue at the mention of Henry's second grade teacher. Her son knew nothing of the sordid past between Mary Margaret Blanchard and herself, and she intended to keep it that way. She dammed the woman for ever giving Henry that cursed book, quite certain it played no small role in her sudden vilification.

Henry and Emma chatted on for the better part of two hours, Regina chiming in only when needed. For the most part, she simply observed. There was an almost sibling-like quality to the pair's interactions, energetic and playful and even lightly teasing at times. Their connection was undeniable, but Regina slowly found herself breathing just a little easier, even warming ever so slightly to Emma. Because Emma was not his mother. This woman didn't know the first thing about being a mother, and the less of a threat Emma became, the more Regina thought that maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Henry, my dear," she began as the night drew to a close, "I'm afraid it is already well past your bedtime. We need to say 'goodnight' to Emma soon."

" _Mom,_ " he whined, elongating the vowel shrilly. "Can't we just stay a little longer?"

"Sweetheart, I know this is a special day for you," Regina explained, hoping ever so cautiously to help him see reason, "and that is why I've already allowed you to stay up later than usual. But at some point we have to let Ms. Swan be on her way. And that time has come."

"What if Emma had a sleepover at our house?" Henry exclaimed excitedly, and Regina groaned at the inevitable storm that was about to ensue. Once an idea occurred to the boy, be it the merits of . "Emma, do you wanna have a sleepover?"

Emma looked to Regina then, clearly knowing this wasn't a viable option yet uncertain how to diffuse it herself. Taking pity, Regina continued.

"That wouldn't really be appropriate right now, darling," she tried.

"Why not?" Henry shrieked, slamming his palms on the table with enough force to rattle the remaining cups and plates.

"Hey, kid," Emma finally interjected, "your mom's right. I loved meeting you tonight, but we're all still getting to know each other, and it just wouldn't be cool yet."

Regina's appreciation for Emma's comment was short lived as Henry lost his temper.

"You made her say that!" he accused such venom that spit sprinkled the table in front of him. "This is all your fault! I _hate_ you!"

And with that he was gone, disappearing into the back hall that connected the diner to its sister Bed and Breakfast.

All eyes were on them as the two women sat in stunned silence. Emma didn't seem to know how to react, and Regina was mortified. The evening had been going so well. She berated herself for getting comfortable, for letting her guard down and leaving herself vulnerable.

"I..." Emma began nervously, "I'm so sorry, Regina. Was it something I said?"

Hearing the girl's feeble voice, Regina was abruptly reminded of just why she resented her so. It didn't matter if Emma said the wrong thing any more than it mattered if Regina said the right thing. Because if Emma said the wrong thing, it would always somehow be Regina's fault. And if Regina said the right thing, it would in turn be attributed to Emma. In short, she couldn't win.

"I think," Regina began, gripping her mug with such pressure that she thought it might crack, "that it is time for you to say your 'goodbyes' to Henry... And leave this town."

Emma's stricken expression jarred Regina in a way she couldn't have expected. The girl had only asked for a single meeting, but it was clear that the years away bred hope that maybe it would lead to something more. That much Regina could have expected. The unwelcome guilt, however, she could not.

"Oh," Emma stuttered in response. Against temptation, Regina remained unmoved. "Yeah. I mean, I understand. Maybe... maybe some other time?"

As much as Regina wanted this anomalous woman out of her life, to never again toy with her own boundaries over a person she hardly knew, there was no cutting her out now. Emma was a malignant tumor upon Regina's existence. No matter how perfectly her extraction might be performed, she would be back. There was no question about it. It was only a matter of how prepared Regina would be for the relapse.

She pulled a business card from her purse, quickly scribbling her home and cellular numbers on the back and handing it to Emma with the instruction that she not use it too soon. Emma nodded, staring at her hard like there was something she wanted to say, but eventually left the booth to follow Henry's trail.

It was tempting to let the sudden solitude from Emma or Henry make her fall apart. But Regina knew she couldn't do that yet. Even were Henry not due back any minute, eyes all around the room constantly shifted in her direction, wondering who this strange woman was, why the Mayor might be meeting with her, and how it all caused such an uncanny public uproar from young Henry Mills.

Soon, Henry returned, slouching disheartedly towards the table, though no longer aggressive. Emma appeared moments later, venturing no further than the doorway as she leaned against the threshold to watch his retreat. Regina studied her, wondering just what Emma might have said to compel Henry to return. She wanted to ask, uncomfortable with the way she wished to know just how this strange woman operated. A quick glance from Emma forced their eyes to make contact, and it felt as if there was so much left unsaid.

But there wasn't, not really. Not once Henry arrived at Regina's side, solemnly obliging her as she held up his backpack and he slipped his arms through the straps without a word. So, Regina realized, now it was the silent treatment. She supposed it was better than tantrums or insults, at least until they made it home. Henry gave a small 'harrumph' to make sure his mother knew she was now being ignored and stomped off towards the exit without looking back. Regina drew a palm down her face in exhaustion before following suit.

As Henry's tiny hands fumbled with the knob on the door, Regina couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Not like the curious glances and stares she endured all evening – something unsettling that peaked her curiosity enough to turn around.

As if knowing just where to go from over her shoulder and across the room, Regina's eyes instantly anchored themselves to Emma's magnetic stare. It jarred her to find the woman watching her instead of Henry, even if he was already halfway out the door. But even more unnerving was the pensive way Emma crinkled her eyes and cocked her head, as if Regina were a puzzle she was just about to finish putting together. The very notion rattled her, how ever absurd it may be, and so with a demure parting nod she turned and fled.

Regina made her way home, the dark and quiet streets of the small town wrapped around her like a soft and familiar blanket after an incredibly grueling day. Henry continued to sulk in the back seat for the duration of their short journey. Normally such insolence would not go unchecked, but tonight Regina figured it was just as well that neither of them say anything right this moment. Henry needed space to sort out his feelings, and his mother most certainly needed at least this one moment of quiet to attempt to collect her thoughts.

The quiet defiance continued after they walked through the front door and, though he pretended not to hear his mother's instructions to properly hang up his bag and coat before beginning his nightly routine, Henry dutifully complied. For her part, Regina found herself in the kitchen filling a glass with her homemade hard cider. It may have accidentally ended up just the bit fuller than usual – or perhaps not so accidentally – but she figured it would be a shame to waste it. And she really did need to take the edge off tonight.

Her head was reeling, swirling and spinning in loops and spirals of Henry and motherhood, prison and crime, Walmart and red leather and a hideous yellow Volkswagen Beetle, and it seemed every tangent always somehow circled back to Emma.

She wondered where Emma would go now, and how long she would stay gone. She wondered what secrets or truths Emma seemed to be on the verge of uncovering as they stared across the diner. She wondered why she cared.

About halfway through the glass of cider she finally began to feel the tension in her shoulders ease. Henry's door creaked and latched some time ago, no doubt he was in bed reading comic books now. Regina couldn't hide in the kitchen forever, it was time to address this.

She padded up the stairs, tapping ever so gently on the door before turning the knob. She didn't force entry, just leaned through the crack as noninvasively as she could.

"Are you still upset with me?" Regina asked, hoping she wasn't about to exacerbate the entire situation with her simple question.

"I dunno," Henry replied with a shrug, and while it was hardly an olive branch, Regina knew this was her son on his way to making amends.

"Can we talk about Emma?" she inquired with gentle coercion.

"What about her?" Henry replied with clearly feigned indifference, his birthmother's name still igniting him with excitement he couldn't fully conceal.

Regina smiled gently, expertly concealing her true emotions.

"You've been waiting a long time for tonight," she replied. "I want to know how you're feeling about all this."

"Fine," Henry said with a shrug, apparently still not quite ready to drop the act and let his mother off the hook.

Regina cautiously entered the room, earning herself a side-eye from her son but no further protest, even as she seated herself on the edge of the bed.

"I know it was hard for you to say goodbye," Regina said gently, feeling much more composed and capable of handling her son's myriad of emotions than she did at the diner. "I understand that you wanted more time with her, and I have no doubt she felt the same about you. And even though that's not going to happen tonight, that doesn't mean never. You will have opportunities to see Emma again. Alright?"

Henry gave a small nod, seeming to understand that perhaps he blew things a bit out of proportion. He fidgeted with the edges of his comic book a moment before finally turning to look at his mother.

"Did you like her?" he asked sheepishly.

The question couldn't have been more loaded for Regina. She experienced quite an array of feelings about Emma Swan throughout the course of their day – some good, but many others less so. Still, she knew her opinion mattered a great deal to Henry, so she answered as honestly as she could. With a light sprinkle of sugar coating.

"I can't say I know much about her yet. But she seems like a very well-intentioned woman,–" that much was true, "–she makes pleasant enough company,–" not entirely true, "–and I'll look forward to getting to know her better." Her final statement was altogether devoid of truth, but she figured it was a white enough lie.

"Me too," Henry said with a wistful smile and a stifled yawn.

Regina tenderly caressed her sleepy son's cheek, deciding the rest of this conversation should probably wait until morning.

"Sleep well, sweetheart," she said softly, leaning down to place a kiss on the boy's forehead. "I love you."

"Mom?" Henry beckoned just as she turned to leave. "Can we still read a bedtime story?"

It really was far too late for such things but the fact that he was even asking warmed her heart, and she really needed to feel like his mother right now.

"Of course, darling," she replied. "Another from the Grimm's book?"

Henry nodded enthusiastically and Regina smiled, retrieving the book and settling in next to her little boy. She presented several choices, carefully avoiding any stories containing wicked stepmothers or any other such parental turmoil.

Henry curled up against her side, his head tucked up under his mother's chin. His breathing turned into soft snores before barely two pages in and, though she knew he was asleep, Regina stayed to finish the story anyway.

* * *

The weekend passed without major incident, aside from Emma being a constant topic of conversation in the Mills household. It was tedious having the woman remain a fixture in their lives even despite a lack of physical presence. Regina wanted nothing more than one day without hearing the name 'Emma' repeating on an endless loop.

Still, she found that engaging in positive discourse about Henry's birth mother kept him relatively appeased and less prone to lashing out. For the time being, she supposed it was a small price to pay. Her personal grievances over Emma Swan weren't for Henry to bear anyway, it was her job as his mother to shoulder that on her own.

As a reward for consecutive days of good behavior, Regina agreed to take her son to Granny's for a treat of his choosing. She waited for him outside of school until the bell rang and children began pouring out the doors like water from a dam. Henry's face appeared among the sea of shrieking chaos, grinning widely as he ran towards his mother. A swell of love bubbled in Regina's chest at the jubilant sight.

"Hi, Mom!" Henry shouted across the lot, and Regina couldn't stifle her grin when he threw his arms around her waist. These moments of unadulterated affection were rare, and by far her most cherished.

"Hello, sweetheart," she replied with a kiss to the top of his head. "Did you have a good day at school?"

"Yeah!" Henry exclaimed. "Today was show and tell so I told my whole class about meeting Emma!"

Regina was careful not to let her smile falter.

"That's wonderful, dear. I'm sure they were very intrigued," she said, congratulating herself on another well phrased reply before quickly changing the subject. "How about we walk to Granny's today? Weather this nice will be in short supply soon enough."

The days were getting cooler, the nights even chillier still. Today, however, the air was crisp yet agreeable with little wind and the satisfying crunch of fall leaves underfoot. Regina wanted to soak up every moment, and couldn't think of a better way to do so than with the one person she loved most.

Henry continued to chatter merrily about the day as they strolled leisurely through the streets of Storybrooke – thankfully seeming to feel show and tell was already a covered topic and didn't bring it up again.

They turned a corner, and Regina had not yet registered the woman exiting the Rabbit Hole – "hole" being an all too appropriate definition for the low scale bar – when she heard her son call out.

"Emma!"

Even as Henry said her name and Regina's eyes fell upon her, it took a moment for her brain to accept that yes, Emma Swan was indeed standing in the sidewalk before her.

Emma's lips silently formed the word 'shit' as she recoiled and, were it not for Henry, Regina was almost certain the woman would have hightailed it out of there. Unfortunately for her, Henry was already lunging himself into her embrace, the way he did with Regina not minutes ago

"Hey, kid," Emma stammered, awkwardly peering up at Regina. "Wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Are you staying in Storybrooke?" Henry asked expectantly with stars in his eyes. Emma grimaced.

"Uh, well–"

"Henry," Regina interjected, "would you please give Ms. Swan and I a moment alone?"

Henry looked at her skeptically, and she responded with her most saccharine smile.

"Just grown-up talk, dear," she assured.

Henry was a smart boy, often far more clever than was sometimes convenient. He quite certainly knew there was more going on. But thankfully, this time, he obeyed and did not question further.

"What the _hell_ are you still doing here?" Regina hissed quietly through her teeth.

"Regina, just listen," Emma pleaded, hands raised in abdication. "I'm not here to step on your toes or whatever, okay? I just... I needed some money–"

"How much?" Regina snapped, reaching into her handbag. She needed Emma gone, and no price was too high.

"No," Emma said firmly. "Absolutely not. I can fend for myself. And I'm sure as hell not taking anymore charity from you."

Regina bristled. No one said 'no' to her. Not if they valued lives – figuratively speaking, of course. Emma just had to go and make everything so much harder than it needed to be. Trouble followed the woman like a shadow, one Regina couldn't seem to get out from under.

"It's time for you to leave, Ms. Swan," she snapped harshly.

"Or what?" Emma smirked and Regina wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug look right off her face.

"Or I will make certain you do."

"You don't scare me, lady."

Emma's nonchalance towards Regina's threats was positively rage inducing. She couldn't even get so much as a rise out of the woman, and lashing out was not an option as long as Emma maintained her calm.

"Well," Regina said, voice low and level and filled with malice, "that is unfortunate for both of us."

"Look," Emma rolled her eyes, "as soon as I make enough to get back to my car and fix it, I'll be out of your hair for good. So I'll stay out of your way if you'll stay out of mine."

"Is that a threat?" Regina asked with some amusement.

"I'm not trying to intimidate you, Regina," Emma replied scowling with exasperation. "I'm just saying, the person who stands to get hurt the most here is Henry. And I know neither of us want that."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Regina conceded banefully, hating to give Emma a win but knowing the woman was right. "But Henry and I have a prior engagement. So I'm going to need you to say your goodbyes, and make yourself scarce. And then... make yourself _scarce_. Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal," Emma said flatly with defiance in her unwavering stare.

"Henry," Regina called, eyes still boring into the icy green of the woman before her. "Come say 'goodbye' to Emma."

Their gazes held until Emma's was forced away by Henry. Just before the woman turned, Regina swore she saw that same knowing glint she would be loath to admit rattled her. It didn't make sense how Emma could make her feel so exposed, while Regina could hardly read this woman at all.

"I gotta get back to work, kid," Emma said ruefully. It was a lie – the bag over the woman's shoulder proved she was clocked out for the day – but she sold it well. Regina believed Emma when she said she wasn't afraid of her. She was surprised to find she might just believe Emma didn't intend to impede on her life as well. Emma certainly wouldn't comply simply because Regina ordered her to.

"Do you really have to?" Henry whined. "Why can't you come with us to Granny's? _Please_?"

His face softened into big, sad puppy dog eyes, and Regina realized that particular trait came from his birth mother as well. That at least explained the unwanted reactions Regina had towards Emma's similar expression. She was seeing a mirror of her son, nothing more.

"Duty calls," Emma said, shrugging her shoulders and giving Henry's hair a quick ruffle, almost like she was afraid to be any more affectionate than the simple gesture. "Next time," she added with a wink, then disappeared back inside the bar.

The words ' _next time'_ echoed in Regina's ears as it became abundantly, painfully clear that, despite anyone's intentions, she would not be divesting herself of Emma Swan any time soon.


End file.
